Twitchy and Jack: The Kidnapping of Superman, Jr
by Syl
Summary: Two kidnappers run afoul of their intended target.


Summary: Two kidnappers run afoul of their intended target.  
  
Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is   
an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback   
is welcome!  
  
Copyright: June 2000  
  
****  
  
The Kidnapping of Superman, Jr.  
By Syl Francis  
  
"I don't know about this, Jack. *Ouch*!"   
  
"How many times do I gotta tell ya, Twitchy?" Jack hissed. "You don't do no   
thinking. *I* do all the thinking for this gang!"  
  
"Gang?" Twitchy asked fearfully, rubbing his head where Jack had hit him. "Uh, I   
didn't know we was a gang."  
  
"Of course, we're a gang. How else we gonna get any respect in this town?"  
  
"Yeah...you're right. W-We'll be just like Rupert Thorne's Gang!"  
  
"That's right," Jack said, adjusting his binoculars.  
  
"L-Like the Daggett Gang!"  
  
"Yeah," Jack said.  
  
"Like the--*Ouch*!" Twitchy cried out, holding the crown of his head. Jack had   
just conked him with his binoculars.   
  
"Shut up, already!" Jack snapped. He returned to his lookout position, annoyed   
that he once again had to readjust his sights. "Now, see what you made me do! I   
think I broke 'em!"  
  
"Whatcha hit me for?" Twitchy asked, his voice whiny. "All I said was--"  
  
"All you said was *nothing*!" Jack retorted. "You talk and talk and you never   
say *nothing*! That's why *I* do all the thinking. Understand? And the talking!"  
  
Jack's face had turned beet red, his eyes had taken that 'I'm going to kill you'   
glint that always concerned Twitchy for his brother's health.  
  
"Jack...remember your blood pressure," Twitchy said worriedly. "Ma always said   
that if Papa had been more mindful of his blood pressure, he wouldn'ta croaked   
in the middle of that bank robbery."  
  
Jack glared almost maniacally at his brother, his face going from beet red to   
purple. He held his hands out, miming a chokehold, his body shaking from the   
volcanic explosion that threatened.  
  
"Remember your promise to Ma," Twitchy said soothingly.  
  
Jack raised his hands over his head, let out an incoherent sound, and started   
kicking stones, roots, and anything else that got in his way.  
  
"Jack, count to ten," Twitchy said helpfully. "Breathe in...breathe out. That's   
it. Everything's gonna be just fine."  
  
Jack stood under a giant oak, his breathing coming in deep gulps. He held his   
hand out in a 'keep away' sign. Twitchy waited patiently while his brother   
worked through his almost daily routine.   
  
Finally, Jack spoke.  
  
"Remember, *I* do all the talking. Got it?"  
  
"Sure, Jack. I got it," Twitchy replied. "You do all the talking."  
  
"Good," Jack gasped. "Let's go."   
  
The brothers started walking down the easy, tree-covered slope that overlooked   
stately Wayne Manor, carrying a ladder between them, Jack in the front, Twitchy   
in back. Twitchy suddenly stumbled and went flying into his brother. Both men   
went tumbling down the gentle slope, landing dazed at the bottom.  
  
"Jack?" Twitchy asked tentatively. "You okay? I'm real sorry." Jack glared at   
his brother. Twitchy's hair was covered in wet leaves, dirt and grass. Jack lay   
back down and sighed. Not saying anything, he stood stiffly and bent down to   
pick up the ladder.  
  
Believing that he was forgiven, Twitchy smiled happily and eagerly moved to take   
up his position in the rear again. Jack stopped him. Without saying a word, he   
pointed at the front end of the ladder. Hanging his head, Twitchy nodded and did   
as directed.   
  
Stealthily, they tip-toed to a spot just under the balcony doors that Jack had   
been watching earlier. He leaned the ladder against the small balcony and   
started climbing.  
  
Twitchy didn't move. He looked guilty all of a sudden, and he stared at his   
brother as if he were dying to ask a question but was too afraid.  
  
"Jack," he said in a little boy voice. Jack stopped and looked back, annoyed.  
  
"What is it *now*?" he hissed.  
  
"What if the little boy cries? What if he wants his Ma or Papa? What'll we do?"  
  
"*Do*?" Jack whispered, an octave higher. He jumped off the ladder and grabbed   
his brother by the shoulders, shaking him.   
  
"We let the little brat *cry* is what we do! Don't you understand, Twitchy?   
We're *kidnapping* the Wayne kid. We're *kid*-nappers*--not babysitters. We   
don't care if the brat cries. Can-you-get-that-through-your-thick-skull?"  
  
Twitchy blinked a bit confusedly for a second, seriously assimilating the   
information that his brother had just imparted. After awhile, he beamed a bright   
smile.  
  
"Oh! I get it! We're like the bad guys, then, huh? Like Papa was when he robbed   
banks. Only we're gonna snatch kids."  
  
Jack sighed at the description. He hated it when his brother put things in his   
own twisted perspective. Slowly he nodded.  
  
"Yeah, Twitchy. We're the bad guys...like Papa was." He went back to the ladder   
and started climbing. After a moment, he realized that he wasn't being followed.   
He looked down. Twitchy was looking up at him, with that same, 'I've got a   
question' look.   
  
Jack put his forehead on his arm.   
  
"Why me?"  
  
He climbed back down.  
  
"Now what?" he asked impatiently.  
  
"Jack, I don't like snatching no kid from his Ma or his Papa," he said   
shamefacedly. "It don't seem right."  
  
"Look, Twitchy, didn't I promise Ma that I'd take care of ya?"  
  
"Yeah," Twitchy said hesitantly.  
  
"Then you just let *me* do the worrying," Jack said. "I promise that we're not   
gonna hurt the kid." At his brother's doubtful expression, he added, "Look. We   
snatch. We make the ransom demand. We collect the ransom. We return the kid. A,   
B, C. No fuss, no worry."  
  
"Promise, Jack?" Twitchy asked. "We won't hurt him?"  
  
"Of course not!" Jack said, insulted. "What do you take me for? Look, I may be   
down on my luck, but I don't hurt no kids. I like kids!"  
  
"No, you don't," Twitchy denied. "Remember the little Allen kid who used to live   
down the hall from us? You was always yelling at him to stop hitting the ball   
against the building."  
  
"Well, what did you expect? He was driving me nuts! Every Saturday morning--  
there he was with the ball and the bat." Jack waved his arms for emphasis. "Hit   
the ball with the bat. Slam the ball against the wall. Hit-slam! Hit-slam! At   
six a.m.! We hadda move away. I woulda killed him otherwise."  
  
"See? You hate kids," Twitchy said fearfully.  
  
"I don't hate kids," Jack insisted. "*That* particular kid--only a mother could   
love 'im." Twitchy looked at him uncertainly.  
  
"Look, Twitchy, if it'll make you feel better, I tell you what. I'll put you in   
charge of the kid once we get 'im to the hideout--"  
  
"We have a hideout?"  
  
Jack sighed. "The trailer," he said.  
  
"Oh. I didn't know hideouts came in mobile homes," Twitchy said thoughtfully.   
Smiling he added, "This is *so* cool, Jack! We have a hideout that we can use as   
a getaway car, too!"  
  
"Yeah, Twitchy," Jack said. "Really cool. Look, we gotta do the snatch. Are you   
done? Any more questions?"  
  
Twitchy shook his head 'no.'  
  
"Good, can we get on with it?" Jack asked a bit impatiently. Seeing Twitchy's   
hurt look, he relented immediately. "Look, let's just get it done, okay? And   
remember--" He put his fingers to his lips. "--*No* talking!"  
  
Twitchy nodded.  
  
****  
  
They stood over the dark-haired boy, a foolish expression on both their faces.   
The boy seemed so *small*. He'd kicked his blankets off and was currently curled   
up in bed, snuggled next to a stuffed elephant.   
  
Twitchy yanked at Jack's arm. Jack looked at him, questioningly. Twitchy pointed   
at the boy's Superman pajamas. Even Jack's otherwise hardened look softened   
somewhat.  
  
"He's so *cute*!" Twitchy whispered loudly. Jack immediately slapped him upside   
the head and made shushing motions. The boy stirred a little in his sleep,   
mumbled something, and then settled down again.  
  
Twitchy pulled his brother back towards the balcony. Jack struggled uselessly   
against his much stronger and larger 'baby' brother.  
  
"Jack, I can't. Look at him. He's so *little*! He still sleeps with a stuffed   
animal."  
  
"So what?" Jack asked. "*You* still sleep with your Teddy bear."  
  
Twitchy immediately put his hand over his brother's mouth, muffling his words.   
"Shhhhh...Jack, you promised never to mention Pookie!" he said, hurt.  
  
Jack nodded vigorously, his eyes panicked. Twitchy released him reluctantly and   
Jack fell to his knees gasping for air. He held onto his brother's trousers for   
support. Finally, getting himself under control, he stood.  
  
Locking eyes with Twitchy, he said in a familiar dangerous tone.   
  
"Twitchy, you're either with me on this caper, or you're against me. What's it   
gonna be?"  
  
Twitchy hung his head ashamedly. Jack was his brother and he'd taken care of him   
since his mother was sent to the Women's Reformatory in Blackgate Prison. They   
called her once a week and visited her twice monthly. On Mother's Day for the   
past five years they'd given her flowers. On her last birthday, they'd sent her   
a cake with a file in it. The file had been Jack's idea.  
  
Jack was a good son, and a good brother.  
  
Twitchy nodded reluctantly.  
  
"I'm with you, Jack," he promised. Jack nodded and the brothers shook hands.  
  
"Let's do it."  
  
****  
  
Later, as the paddy wagon pulled away from stately Wayne Manor, Jack watched   
disgustedly as Twitchy, smiling a bit uncertainly, waved at the small boy who   
stood on the elegant portico. He wore an open robe over his Superman pajamas and   
clutched his stuffed elephant under one arm.   
  
Towering over the small boy, his guardian had a laid hand protectively on his   
shoulder. Another gentleman, wielding a dust mop like a sword, stood on the   
boy's other side.   
  
Jack flashed back momentarily to the horror of the dust mop being shoved in his   
face. He'd been overcome almost instantly by a sneeze-attack.   
  
"How did they know I was allergic to dust?" he muttered. "Did they know about   
the kidnapping attempt ahead of time?"   
  
After a moment's hesitation, the boy waved back at Twitchy. He leaned his head   
back as far as he could and spoke to his guardian. The guy looked down and gave   
him a proud half-smile, ruffling his dark head affectionately.  
  
Jack leaned back on the metal bench, his shackles digging into his wrists and   
ankles. His eye was beginning to swell. At least he wasn't sneezing anymore.  
  
"No one told me we needed Kryptonite on this caper!" he grumbled.  
  
"What? What you say, Jack?" Twitchy asked. "Isn't he just the cutest little kid?   
And did you see how he flipped over and over in the air before he kicked you in   
the eye? And then in the head? And the stomach? Oh, and the eye again?"  
  
"No, I didn't see him flip over and over!" Jack mimicked. "I was busy trying to   
protect your rear end, remember?" He glared at his brother. "I *told* you not to   
talk, Twitchy. Why did you have to open your big, dumb mouth?"  
  
"I couldn't help myself, Jack," Twitchy said, smiling slightly. "He looked just   
like a teeny-tiny, Superman, Jr. Able to leap over the bed in a single bound!"   
he said, laughing. "Look, up by the ceiling--it's a bird, it's a plane, it's   
Superman, Jr.!"  
  
"Shut up, Twitchy," Jack said not meaning it.  
  
"Faster than a speeding bullet--Superman, Jr. escaped from the sure grasp of the   
cowardly kidnappers!"  
  
"'Cowardly' kidnappers?" Jack protested. "Twitchy, you're talking about *us*!"  
  
"More powerful than a locomotive--Superman, Jr. knocked out the two bumbling   
bandits--"  
  
"Bumbling--?" Jack began, and then gave up.  
  
"--First by leaping over the bed in a single bound," Twitchy continued his   
recitation. "--spinning in midair, and kicking out, connecting with the gang   
leader's eye. And then, by doing a--uh, what did he do next, Jack?"  
  
"He did five handsprings, and landed feet first in your soft gut!"  
  
"Aw, Jack, that's not nice," Twitchy said, hurt. "There's no need to poke fun at   
my weight. You know that I've been dieting--"  
  
"All *right*!" Jack cried. "I'm *sorry*! Okay?! It's not *fair*! No one--*no*   
one told me that the Wayne kid could do--that stuff."  
  
"And, thus Superman, Jr. *foiled* the vile kidnappers' dastardly plans, making   
the world safe for, uh, *kids* again!"  
  
Jack put his head in his hands. "Why me?" He put his elbows on his knees, and   
leaning down, jammed his head between his hands. After a few minutes of silence,   
he felt something tapping his toe. He looked up and met Twitchy's compassionate   
gaze.  
  
"Don't feel so bad, Jack," Twitchy said. "At least now we'll be close to Ma."  
  
The End  
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